In a way, I was safe writing

Death confronts us not unlike the historical battle scene that hangs on the wall of the classroom. It is our task to obscure or quite obliterate the picture by our deeds while we are still in this world.

I write differently from what I speak, I speak differently from what I think, I think differently from the way I ought to think, and so it all proceeds into deepest darkness.

Nothing is as deceptive as a photograph.

But questions that don’t answer themselves at the very moment of their asking are never answered.

I can once more carry on a conversation with myself, and don't stare so into complete emptiness. Only in this way is there any possibility of improvement for me.

My 'fear' is my substance, and probably the best part of me.